Selflessness
by Angelwings228
Summary: It's kind of lonely, to have nothing to live for and nothing much to account for. So why was it that he couldn't die? Why was is that he always came back? USUK
1. Loneliness

**Hello all! This is Angel, or Romanochi, or 88spades, as some of you may know me. Um…Ah, i don't really know what else to say so i'll get on with the story.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. If I did, the damned bloodbath would've updated by now and we wouldn't be stranded on an island.**

**ENJOY!**

_I don't think I deserve it_

_Selflessness_

_Find your way _

_Into my heart_

_All stars could be brighter_

_All hearts could be warmer_

The light murmur of music ensued from a pair of sleek white earphones that were plugged into an iPod. The iPod, obviously of the latest generation, sat in the lap of a man casually dressed in a T-shirt and dark wash jeans. Oversized eyebrows furrowed together as he concentration on the he held open with his hands. All in all, it looked like a considerably normal scene. The man, who could be any age between 20 and 27, had messy blonde hair and green eyes that seemed to be constantly changing shade. The only thing strange about him was his abnormally large eyebrows. On the other hand, what _was_ strange was his surroundings. The room was a complete devoid of white, as was the bed he was sitting cross-legged on. It was sparsely furnished with only one chair, a desk, and aTV which was securely nailed up a ceiling corner. The single window int he room was a small long rectangle, barred and placed beyond his reach. The shock of sunlight and blue sky that peeked though the glass seemed to dim everything in comparison.

It looked a bit lonely

But then again, that was the point. Having tried suicide three times and failed all three times gave you a free pass into a hospital, institution or house arrest. He'd gotten used to it now, being alone and kept away for his own good. The three scars that outwardly marked his attempts were actually quite visible. The first was a silvery line across his wrist. The second was a gash across his throat. That one had been a particularly hard to get over. And the third and latest scar, a jagged line that ran vertically along his abdomen, from where he had stabbed himself. He was grateful that many would not see that one because it was definitely the worst and ugliest scar he had ever seen. But he had felt ugly at that time too and it was actually quite fitting. As a child, Arthur Kirkland may have been one of the happiest children on the face of the planet. He was too young, too care free, and too innocent to actually understand what the world was like. But as he got older, the burden of life settled down around him. He learned how to hate, and how to feel others' hatred. He learned that love was not a miracle and that love would never save anything.

So he gave up.

And yet, life still managed to cling to him, to fill him with the barest hint of hope, that he would find a purpose in this world and find a miracle in love. But love was the reason why he had been placed in the hospital in the first place. The parental love his parents had, somewhere very very deep inside them, had told them that the burden of keeping him alive was too much. It was the love that weighed them down. So love was the answer. It was the reason. It was the fault. It was ironically painful, and he thought so as he looked up from his book to the window that lead outside. He couldn't remember the last time he had been free of the blank off-whiteness or when he had had the freedom to wander on his own. Emerald eyes softened with longing. But even he himself didn't know what he was longing for. There was no place for him out in that world. He was no longer suicidal, not by a long shot, but he still saw to reason to live. He simply did not have the will to. He lived only because of that one single hope inside him. That was it, the reason that summed up his entire miserable existence. Arthur looked up as there was a quick knock before the door to his room opened. A nurse walked in to take his daily heart rate and his bodily stats, just to make sure that he hadn't tried anything. Arthur sighed and set aside his book. The people at the hospital were very thorough, as he had noticed in the past 6 years he had been coming here and the past near 2 years he had been fully admitted to it. Once it was confirmed that he was doing fine, the nurse smiled and motioned for him to follow her.

"Doctor Alaric would like to see you in his office" she said pleasantly as Arthur curiously got up from his bed and stepped into his shoes.

Why would the doctor ask for him? The only reason he ever went to see him was for strictly medical reasons and the Brit had not heard of anything wrong in the past few days. And the Doctor _always_ gave prior notice. The nurse lead Arthur down the long tiled hall ways of the hospital until they came to the front of a door, only a vertically turned rectangle offering any view into the office. Doctor Alaric, a tall stoic German with long blonde hair kept loose, saw them through the glass and waved at them to come in. The nurse slid the door open and allowed Arthur to enter first. Arthur padded into the office, which was decorated with certificates and degrees and whatnot, sitting in the chair placed before the wooden desk. The Doctor offered a nod in greeting and folded his hands in front of him. Arthur blinked calmly, telling the Doctor to continue in whatever business he had called the Brit on to conduct. The Doctor cleared his throat once before speaking.

"As you know, Mr. Kirkland" he started "It's almost been two years since you've come to stay with us."

Arthur nodded "Yes, it has" he replied.

"Well, you've improved considerably and since your parents have agreed to allow us to make all decisions considering your well-being, we think that it's about time you starting…how do you young ones say it these days, 'get around'?"

Arthur frowned slightly at the barest mention of his parents but as he understood what the Doctor was saying, his face was completely wiped blank. Get around? As in leave the hospital? The blonde leaned forwards as if not having heard correctly.

"Um, Doctor" he said "You mean, that i should, or rather, _can_ leave the hospital now?"

Alaric smiled a little. It was amusing at how Arthur was so incredibly skeptical. The young man hadn't been out in ages and he wondered how it felt to be trapped inside at such a young age. Alaric was also a bit saddened at the fact that Arthur couldn't really fathom the fact that he was free. he was so used to being kept inside that he'd almost lost the taste of what life used to be. But then again, Arthurs life before had been a sad sad thing to know about. Sometimes, being a doctor was a terrible thing, Alaric thought to himself as he nodded. Arthur's eyes widened as his face lit up a little, though still a little wary.

"When?" he said, asking the simple questions that all patients asked.

The hope in the Brit's eyes reminded Alaric that _that _was the reason why he was a doctor. To see those almost invisible shards of hope and to know that he had done something to bring back at least a little bit of the life that still resided in his patients.

"Tomorrow, if you wish" he replied, handing over the papers that would completely allow Arthur to leave.

The next morning Arthur got dressed, washed up, and immediately left the hospital without even notifying the staff. He had no clue what he was doing or where he was going, but he did know that he had to just get out of the hospital. Anywhere but the place where he had spent the past two years of his life. As the Brit left through the automatic doors of the hospital, he found that he was near the busy shopping district of the city. It was almost painful, suddenly being in a new surrounding. It saddened him, how he couldn't even feel like a normal person where he had once lived, walked, and breathed. Things had changed in the time he had spent away from the outside world. While he was frozen in time, inside his own thoughts, the world had moved on without him, not caring if he was left behind. The realization that he couldn't be the same as he thought he could hit him hard. Suddenly, there was nothing more he wanted to do but to go back inside the hospital and lock himself up in his room.

_'Damn, coward'_ he told himself _'Why am i such a damned coward'_

And so he took a deep breath, cautiously stepping out. He found that the more he walked, the more he got used to walking on anything other than cold white tiles. He also found that he was virtually being ignored, nothing more than bother person. It was lonely, as usual, but that was no surprise. Loneliness seemed to follow him around like a lost puppy, waiting to be kicked away only to come back again. Arthur walked around aimlessly, trying to calm himself down. He was dressed casually in a pair of his usual dark wash jeans, a printed white T-shirt and a black jacket over it all. It was strange being outside after so long, the sudden brightness of the colors and the sharp human presence that surrounded him being a bit uncomfortable. He felt so out of place. While those around him walked with confident strides of purpose, he simply wandered. Eventually, he found a nice cafe and sat down with a drink, feeling considerably more relaxed. After all, those who couldn't 'do', watched. And so he did. People-watching had always been a favorite past-time of his, even before he'd, well, been confined. Just watching how other interacted, how they moved, how their body language told more than their words ever could, intrigued him. It never got boring either, because no matter how long or how hard he looked, he never really understood them. He was absentmindedly stirring his tea, submersed in his own thoughts, when the eerily familiar rustle of expensive clothing brought him back to reality.

"_Mon dieu_…." a voice breathed in smooth French "…if it isn't _Angleterre_."

Arthur sighed and looked up, setting his spoon down with a gentle clink.

"Hello, frog. What do you want?" he said in a clipped tone.

The man, a at all blonde with crystalline blue eyes, slid into the seat across from Arthur. He was dressed in a pair of fitting black jeans, a pink T-shirt with splattered graphics, and a black jacket adorned with silver buckles and all sort of other things rolled up to his elbows. The entire outfit, including the boots, reeked of designer brands.

_'As per usual, Francis'_ Arthur thought wryly.

"What do i want?" the French man asked, throwing his hands up in exasperation "_Dieu_, Arthur. It's been what, over a year since anyone has seen you out?"

"A year and 8 months" he replied, lifting the cup to his lips and taking a sip.

Francis rolled his eyes at the Englishman's precision as he quietly slid a hand under the table. Arthur's eye narrowed as he set down his cup and tried to kick Francis' hands away.

"Oh bloody fucking hell you don't!" he yelled, finally managing to connect his foot with the back of the blonde's hand.

Francis chuckled as he quickly withdrew before any serious damage could be done, his hand already turning pink form the kick that Arthur had landed.

"Just wondering if you remembered" he said lightly, laughter clear in his eyes as well as the barest hint of relief.

Although the two of them had fought since they had first met as children, he had to admit that they were somewhat friends. Of the rival variety, but still, friends. He was relieved to find that Arthur still had the life in him to fight back as he always had. The last he had seen of Arthur wasn't even really Arthur. It seemed to have been an empty shell of him, someone who only saw inside himself rather that outside at everyone else. That had worried everyone. Friends and family both. Arthur was still recovering from Francis' 'welcome back' attack as he shot a response to the Frenchman's comment.

"For the love of God, what am i supposed to forget? That you grope everything and anything that falls in your line of sight?" he said, shooting him an apprehensive look.

"Shh" Francis replied jokingly putting a finger to his lips "Don't' be so loud, you'll scare away the ladies!"

Arthur groaned and let his head fall into his hands. He really wondered how he put up with the man in the first place. And it was just sheer bad lick that the first person he had to come across since he'd left the hospital was him. A waitress came by and Francis ordered some food, trying to catch a glimpse up her skirt. It was virtually impossible but Arthur wouldn't put it past him to find a way. As Francis accomplished his mission and turned his attention back to Arthur, the slow oozing of a saxophone erupted, shattering the air. Francis jumped a little but put a hand up and pulled out a sleek black phone from his pocket, turning slightly away as he took the call.

"_Oui?_" he said into the phone, waiting for an answer "Ah, Gilbert!…._oui_….Antonio?…hm….Oh, i'm with _Angleterre_ right now…._oui,_ of course i'm not like you _tête de merde__…._okay…"

He turned back to Arthur who had been listening in on half the conversation. The names Gilbert and Antonio piqued his interest, bringing memories of churros, beer, and some really bad parties to the surface of his mind. He cringed a little as a particularly bad incident was brought to mind. Francis leaned slightly over the table.

"Arthur, you do remember Gilbert and Antonio, don't you?" he asked, covering the mouth piece of the phone with one hand.

"Of course i do!" the Brit replied, a little offended that the Frenchman thought he could've forgotten that much over the span of a year.

"Well…they're on their way…" Francis continued slowly "…and they're bringing company."

"Oh blood hell they are" Arthur said tiredly.

It had only been and hour or two and he had already gotten himself in to this big damned mess. He hadn't really been expecting to run into so many people and he swore that the more people he got involved with, the more drama that would occur. He'd wanted to keep this first day out quiet and peaceful but then again, when did he ever get his way? He couldn't even die. Francis' blue eyes seemed to be asking Arthur for permission and Arthur merely nodded. After all, gentlemen didn't turn down such invitations. Francis lit up considerably and turned back to the phone, rambling off in a mixture of French and English. Maybe some heavily accented German in there too. Arthur waved for a waiter as he waited for Francis to finish the call. This was going to take a lot of tea. A whole bloody mess of tea. Just as the waiter left, Francis hung up and tucked the phone back into his pocket.

"You haven't seen any of them have you? Gilbert or Antonio or Ludwig?" he said.

"No" Arthur replied calmly "You, unfortunately, are the first person i know that i've met"

Francis smiled smugly, his ego obviously shooting up a thousand miles. He attempted to fill Arthur in on the 1 year time skip but apparently a lot had happened. Too much for Francis to properly explain and too much for Arthur to bother listening in on. He'd get the hang of it eventually. Or at least, that's what Francis said as he gave up, chuckling. Arthur noted that Francis had changed a little since he had last seen him. He seemed…happier, if so to speak. But then again, when he had last seen the people he had remotely known or been close to, all of them, including him, hadn't been in the best of spirits. The two made small talk, moving on easily from one topic to another. Who had graduated, who had gotten engaged, who had broken up, and so on. Arthur actually enjoyed just talking about random subjects when Francis wasn't attempting to rape him, or anyone else for that matter. He was enjoying the time before the others got there, like the calm before the storm tough he had nothing wrong with them, being friends with both Gilbert and Antonio and actually looked forwards to seeing them. Francis was in the middle of explaining how Vash, a Swiss friend of theirs and someone Arthur knew, was about to ask his stepsister Lili, an adopted girl from Liechtenstein, to marry him, when he caught sight of something behind Arthur. The Brit turned around in his seat to see a group of people walking towards them. It was lead by two distinct figures. One of them stood out sharply, his bright silver hair reflecting off his pale pale skin. Blood red eyes peered from behind bangs as the mischievous grin he wore widened. Arthur smiled a little, unable to forget Gilbert's strange appearance. Most people may have been ashamed or scared but the self proclaimed Prussian bore his difference around with pride. That gained a good portion of Arthur's respect, as the 'awesome' man never seemed to be deterred by his condition. At his side was a man who was virtually his opposite. With eternally messy deep brown locks and trademark emerald eyes, Antonio contrasted starkly with his friend. His tan skin gave off a mysterious glow and the good natured smile that graced his lips only seemed to strengthen the sunny aura that radiated around him. Arthur supposed the Spaniard was a pure epitome of sunlight and happiness, even if it was faked at times. The people around him couldn't really help but be happy. The two, plus Francis, were known throughout high school and college as the 'Eternal Trio'. All of their personalities clashed dangerously. Gilbert was pegged as the mischievous but good natured prankster, Antonio as the sunny pretty boy, and Francis as the charming pervert. And all of them were playboys. Everyone simply supposed that though they were total opposites, their one similarity brought them together long enough to cultivate a close friendship. Francis stood up from his seat and waved to the other 2/3 of the trio as well as the people behind them. Arthur only recognized one of them. The tall figure on Gilbert's other side was Ludwig, his brother. He was the stern anchor that grounded Gilbert to reality and sensibility. Otherwise, he would have flown off to some other fantasy world long ago. Blonde and blue eyed, Ludwig didn't even look like his brother, much less look like the younger one of the two. The 4 men who walked behind them were virtually unknown to Arthur. As they reached the cafe, Francis gave the two bro hugs and offered his greetings to the others.

"Artie!" Gilbert yelled as he threw his arms around the Brit. "_Mein gott,_ why the hell have you not been out here? You missed all the fun!"

Arthur couldn't help but laugh a little, though he was a bit pissed at the sudden hug attack. He'd never really been a touchy feely, hug type of person to begin with. He gave the Prussian a quick pat on the back before releasing him.

"Nice to see you again, Gilbert" he said.

Gilbert cackled as Antonio shoved him out of the way, holding his arms out. The Spaniard looked at Arthur with matching green eyes full of well meant greeting.

"Come on, come give your _amigo_ a hug, _Inglaterra_" the Spaniard demanded.

Arthur obliged and 'bro hugged' Antonio. They exchanged some news between each other, Gilbert and Antonio being strangely enthusiastic, until a slight cough interrupted their conversation. Antonio looked over and his eyes lit up. He pulled one of the four other men to his side.

"Arthur, this is Lovino Vargas!" he said in quick introduction. " He is _la amor de mi vida_! Say hi Lovi!"

Lovino, who was quite obviously an Italian, punched the Spaniard in the arm, scowling and flushing at the same time. Antonio laughed, clearly used to Lovino's reactions.

"Chigi! Don't call me that, _idiota_!" he hissed defensively as he tried to escape Antonio's arms.

Then he turned to Arthur, who was recovering from slight shock, and stuck out his hand, becoming very business like.

"Like he said, I'm Lovino Vargas." he said, his amber eyes flaring "Nice to meet you"

"Ah…nice to meet you as well" Arthur replied, shaking the Italian's hand firmly.

Lovino turned around and grabbed the wrist of the dazed young man who had been staring up at the sky. The man snapped out of his thoughts and stumbled slightly as he came to a stop before the Englishman.

"And this is my brother" Lovino concluded.

"Ve, I'm Feliciano Vargas!" the man said in a innocently sweet voice "It's a pleasure to meet you!"

Arthur shook his hand as well, and suddenly it was very clear that the two were related. Both had auburn hair with a stray curl and amber eyes that differed in shade depending on their moods. Both were of similar stature, lean and well muscled though not completely ripped, but that's pretty much where all the similarities ended. Their personalities, very much like Ludwig and Gilbert, were totally different. Feliciano was obviously a ditz of insane proportions and Lovino was undeniably defensive if not a little sheltered. Not unlike himself, Arthur thought. Lovino scowled as Antonio messed with him and Feliciano egged him on, only flustering Lovino even more. It was obvious that all three were close with one another and Arthur wondered why groups of friends always came in sets of three. The remaining two men, actually more like teens, Francis brought up. At first glance, it was obvious that they were twins. The first one was shy kid with slightly wavy blonde locks, one strand gently curling, and startling eyes that seemed to waver between shades of violet and blue. He wore wire rimmed glasses that perched delicately on the slope of his nose. He gave a slight wave as Francis pulled him up.

"_Angleterre_" Francis said, planting the boy firmly before him "This is _Mathieu_, Mattie, this is my friend, Arthur Kirkland"

Arthur snorted when being referred as Francis' friend but he nodded, smiling a little. The boy was obviously one of those quiet types, shy to a fault and timid but gentle.

"I'm Matthew Williams" he said offering a sweet smile "I've heard a lot about you"

Arthur shook his hand firmly, trying to get the boy to be comfortable around him. The Englishman hated it when there was someone else but him being awkward, because one awkward person was obviously enough. He wondered where the boy had heard of him thought, considering he had totally been missing in action for over a year. He seriously hoped that Francis hadn't told him much, especially anything that involved alcohol. Mat turned around and the other twin walked up before Francis could officially introduce him. He was distinctly different from his twin, with shorter cut hair and clear cerulean eyes. A few strands of hair stuck up in an odd little cow-lick and his glasses, which were more square shaped than his brother's were slightly smudged. He wore a leather jacket that was clearly WWII era with a large 50 emblazoned on the back. While Mat had a gentle air of timid intelligence around him, this twin had a stronger sharper presence. He stuck out his hand, accompanied by a grin that probably could have blinded anyone in a 10 foot radius.

"I'm Alfred F. Jones!" he said in a firm but energetic voice "Nice to meet you!"

Arthur raised his eyebrows and shook his hand almost delicately. Well, this was certainly a change. Alfred was almost like Gilbert but obviously a home grown American. Speaking of which, he wondered why Mat and Alfred had different last names, when they were obviously twins.

"Nice to meet you as well, Alfred" Arthur replied a bit skeptically.

Alfred practically radiated confidence and it totally baffled the Brit. The positive air around him clashed almost painfully with everyone else. The others were clearly used to his seemingly bottomless stock of energy as Gilbert and Antonio called the twins over. Alfred gave a quick wave and a final smile to Arthur before running off to join the Prussian and the Spaniard in shooting spit balls out of multicolored straws. Mat smiled and ducked apologetically, going to keep his brother in check. At his side, Francis chuckled deeply.

"They're only 19" he said conspiratorially "Sophomores now, i think"

"Oh" Arthur replied, not really sure what to say, considering that he, Gilbert, Antonio, and Francis were all 25 or 26, depending on birthdays.

Francis laughed at the Brit's non responsive answer and gave him a quick pat on the shoulder as he began to make his way towards the group.

"Still the same as ever, i see" the Frenchman said to his friend, talking over his back.

Arthur frowned and shrugged. The blonde went over to the group and immediately slid his arm around Mat's waist. The younger twin squeaked a little, flushing as Gilbert and Alfred both lunged for him, creating a space between the two. Alfred, obviously because he was protecting his twin, and Gilbert, for unknown reason. Maybe because it was just fun to mess with Francis. They three started yelling at each other good naturally and Antonio joined in to make peace. The Spaniard just ended up getting dragged in tot he whole mess and in the process, drags Lovino and Feli along. Arthur hung back a little, wondering if he should go join them. They had once been his friends and were no doubt still but even then, the aura that surrounded them held him back. Watching them from a far, it made them look like a painted picture. One like those Arthur's mother used to hang up in the halls of their houses or in his father's office. It seemed all surreal just as those paintings had, mere representations of what could be. And it did make such a pretty picture. Arthur only wished that it was real.

**A/N: So, please, I'd love your feedback on this! It's um, a kind of a weird subject for me to write on, but I really do love writing it. You may be wondering why, if Iggy is so damned suicidal, he's not totally angst and all 'THE WORLD HATES ME'. I like to think of him as a suicide victim who is no longer looking to kill himself, but has just simply lost the will to live. Which, to me, seems worse that trying to kill yourself in a fit of depressed sentiments. **

**Alaric is obviously Germania (don't ask where i got the name from)**

**TRANSLATIONS**

**La amor de mi vida (Spanish)- the love of my life**

**Tete de merge (French)- Shit head**

**So, PLEASE REVIEW, and I'll see if i need to post another chappie**


	2. New World

**Hello, and welcome to the second chapter! I really have no clue where this is going, except for a few plot twists in the future so please stay with me as i try to get this thing started! **

**THIS IS A ROUGH VERSION BECAUSE I CAN'T UPLOAD THE BETA'D VERSION AT THE MOMENT. **

**Thanks to: ShiroIchiHichi, REMULA BLACK, alguien22792, DerSteppenwolf, banana muffins3, PhsycoticYuki367k, and foliagel for welcoming this story to the fandom and giving it a chance!**

**((Also, i wrote tete de merge as a translation when it's actually tete de merde. Blame autocorrect))**

"SCORE!"

Gilbert cheered loudly as a particularly good shot stuck to back of the target's head. The stuffy looking business man who had been targeted went about his usual work, unaware of the spitball that clung to his hair. Gilbert snickered as Lovino lazily checked off the score on a napkin.

"Potato bastard's brother: 13, Hamburger bastard: 12" he said, reading aloud round 1.

Al pouted childishly but offered a brofist to the Prussian, which Gil enthusiastically returned. From his seat at a table off to the side, Arthur took a long long sip at his tea. This was what, his 5th cup since the group had settled down outside the cafe? In the past 20-30 minutes they had accumulated into a huge mess of talk as well as a raging spit ball war. Arthur picked up the tea cup and began wishing that the cafe served alcohol, or at least a good glass of scotch. He peered over the rim of the tea cup as he drained it. Alfred, Gil, and Lovino were immersed in a battle with Antonio looking in once in a while. Feliciano, Ludwig and Francis all sat across of Arthur, chattering meaninglessly while Antonio proceeded to fill the Brit in during his remaining time. It was quite stressful but not unwanted. Arthur didn't mind the company at all and he supposed that it was time he got used to it. They were a lively group, after all. The Brit glanced over to his right to find Matthew sitting quietly, a book in his lap. He and his brother certainly were different. The Canadian looked up when he felt Arthur's gaze land on him and offered a shy smile.

"Sorry about all of this" he said, waving a hand in the general direction of Round 2 of the spit ball war.

"No, it's not like it's your fault. Arthur replied "And Gil's always been like that"

Matt shrugged, a faint smile tracing the curve of his lips. He and Al had grown up in the city. Well, for the better part of their lives anyway. In truth, Al and Matt hadn't started living together until they were 11. Their mother and father had divorced when they were young, their father taking Matt and Al being left with their mother. The twins' father died when they were 11, returning both of them to their mother's care once more. But they had always been close, brotherly bond or not. Matt fell into silence as he watched his brother and Gil duke it out. Arthur caught hold of the silence and slowly turned to look back at them. Gil was laughing, his red eyes bright with excitement. The Prussian had always seemed younger than his years. Maybe it was the fact that he acted that light hearted or just because he had that vibe. But even he, next to Alfred, had a sense of maturity, of experience around him. Alfred was all energy and impulse. His face angled against light, giving his eyes a certain spark so that they shone even through the sheen of his glasses. He was the pure image of 'new life' and his entire existence seemed to verify that fact. It intrigued Arthur, how someone could personify such a thing. How he could contain something so free. The Brit was torn mercilessly from his thoughts as a loud voice pierced the air.

"Arthur!"

Arthur turned curiously around to see a woman walking towards him, her arm looped around the curve of a tall man's arm. She was slender, with long chestnut colored locks framing her pretty face. Long soft bangs were kept away from her sparkling amber eyes with an orange flower pin as she hurried into a sprint walk. The man at her side was a tall brunette with a strange curl of hair sticking up stubbornly and brilliant violet eyes behind thin glasses. He easily slid into step with the woman as they nearly sprinted towards the group.

"Elizaveta? Roderich?" Arthur said, almost surprised.

The pair reached the group as Arthur and several others stood up to greet them. Elizaveta enveloped Arthur in a warm hug and Arthur immediately hugged her back, feeling the sisterly, almost motherly, warmth. He had gone to high school with her and her dominating personality as well as happiness kept her a close friend of his. Even after they had all gone off to college, in the same University for multiple reasons, she remained a friend in time of need. She pulled back from the embrace and set her hands on his shoulders, searching his eyes with her own glowing amber ones.

"Goodness, it's been way too long Arthur!" she said earnestly.

"Hello, Elizaveta. It's good to see that you're doing well" he replied, smiling a little.

"I should be saying that to you, _ostoba!_" she shot back, her tongue as sharp as ever.

Arthur chuckled as she pulled her hands down to make room for the man she had arrived with. Roderich stepped up and extended a hand in their usual greeting, smiling as his violet eyes sparkled. Arthur hadn't met the pianist until his freshman year at the University but since Elizaveta and Gilbert had known him since they were children, Roderich quickly became a part of their inner circle. The pianist often helped Arthur when he was writing, whether it was for class or just for fun. He truly seemed to confirm the fact that a single note could say more than a thousand words. Arthur shook his hand.

"Nice to see you again" Roderich said, raising an eyebrow.

"Likewise" Arthur answered simply.

Now that the formalities were over with, Roderich seemed to almost subconsciously reach down to take Elizaveta's hand in his own. The two had been a couple for quite awhile now, even before Arthur had left them. In the motion, Arthur noticed the quick flash of silver and diamonds. Now that he looked closer, he spotted a silver band between their interlocked fingers. After a barest moments hesitation, he put two and two together.

"You…you two got engaged?" he asked incredulously.

Elizaveta laughed at his earnest surprise. Well, now that he thought about it, it wasn't really that shocking. The two had been friends for…how long? It must've been years. They'd grown up together, their grandfathers being close friends. The men used to say that they would be inseparable, as the did everything together. But somewhere along that time line, as they grew up and learned of the world, something came between the two. They'd met new friends, new schools, and new life styles. They still knew each other, of course, and maybe ran into one another here and there, at parties and get togethers, but they weren't as close as they used to be. In fact, they'd barely come to remember each other until a few years ago, when Elizaveta and Gilbert were walking out of the auditorium after orientation at the University. Elizaveta who was a vocal major was checking out her new classes when the faint strains of piano music drew her to one of the practice rooms on the hallway. Well, it was the song rather than the sound that drew her attention, because Roderich's grandfather would always play it for her when she was a child. It was her favorite songs, as all of them knew, and to hear it again after the death of Roderich's grandfather was a bit of a shock. And so, she found him again. From there on, it was simply the course of their lives which brought them together.

"Congratualtions, both of you" Arthur said, smiling.

"Thank you" Roderich replied while Elizaveta positively beamed at him, her smile telling all the thanks that he needed to know.

The others rose to greet the new arrivals and they sat back at the table. Confirmations of wedding invitations were made and eventually Gil managed to anger Elizaveta. Well, as he always did. The two were close friends and that very friendship had managed to cultivate a fierce love-hate relationship between them. Arthur raised an eyebrow as the brunette woman ran after the man, her anger quite evident. Roderich chuckled lightly at Arthur's reaction as he sat, elegantly stirring a cup of tea.

"As always, no?" the man asked, violet eyes bright with mixed annoyance and amusement.

"Yes, as always" the Brit replied.

Painfully loud yelling reached their ears and they both cringed. Feli, France, and Antonio, oblivious to the sudden death match going, went about their usual business. Roderich sighed and rose from his chair. The way he moved told Arthur that he was used to breaking up the constant battles that seemed to spawn around Gil and Elizaveta. Arthur laughed quietly at his exasperation and waved him off. Roderich and Gil had never been particularly close, but they were certainly good friends, if not rivals. The Brit sighed into his seat and ordered his 7th cup of tea. The waiter seemed to have gotten used to being called over, since the order came in rather quickly. As he blew at the hot tea Arthur noticed a flash of color spreading on the table as Feli murmured a soft sound of down set. The iced glass of water that had been sitting to the side poured its contents over the vividly inked drawing that Feli had been steadily creating. The water made the colors bleed all over the pours napkin and thought it ruined the image, it was still aesthetically pleasing.

"It's impressive" the Brit said as he mopped up the water "Even after the spill"

The water threatened to slip off the table and the Italian quickly grabbed another napkin. Ludwig and Francis brought then some more napkins and they managed to clean up the mess in good time. Feli stepped back and looked at the ruined drawn, tilting his head to the side. It was still good, as Arthur had commented, so he hung it out to dry. In art, a mistake wasn't always a bad thing. Sometimes, it ended up better. While Feli was observing it, and idea came to mind and he turned.

"Hey, Arthur! If you want to see some more art, well real art, come here!" he said, pulling at Arthur.

Curious as to what Feli had thought of, Arthur got up and was promptly dragged to the middle of the spit ball battle field. Feli was certainly stronger than he let on. The two managed to make their way behind Lovi, who was actually not taking score. Well, not for the most part anyways. His napkins as well as the multiple napkins that littered the table were swamped in inked designs and sketches. The elder Italian looked up as he sensed their pretense.

"What do you want?" he asked, raising an eyebrow almost irritably.

"Just to show Arthur what you're doing, ve!" Feli said cheerfully, apparently deaf to his brother's annoyance.

Lovino sighed and leaned back, setting his pen down for a moment and propping his head up on the heel of his hand. A slight frown graced his lips as he criticized his own work.

"So both of you are artists?" Arthur asked, picking up a napkin and examining it.

"Art majors" Lovino corrected, considering that they had not fully reached the art enlightenment yet. "And that one too"

Feli dragged over the said other individual and Arthur looked up from the intricate swirls. To his surprise he found himself watching the young Italian holding Alfred by the upper arm.

"Him?" Arthur asked incredulously, bright jade eyes widened the barest fraction.

"Me what?" Alfred asked, glasses askew and just as confused.

"He's an art major too!" Feli explained, seeming to have accomplished his mission of gathering all the artistic talent in the group.

"Oh!" Alfred said, his eyes positively lighting up at the subject "Yeah, Photography"

Arthur blinked in total confusion. Al? A photographer? The American didn't seem like an artist at all. He was too reckless, to excited, and way too air headed. The Brit couldn't fathom how someone as impatient as Alfred could managed to stay still to take a picture much less a good one of artistic value. Behind them, the spit ball war momentarily paused with the sudden absence of the America and Gil, Antonio, Roderich, and Elizaveta came over, wondering where Alfred had gone. Lovino rolled his eyes at the sudden amassing of people and swiped the napkins off the table and into a neat little stack. Matthew and Francis followed close behind, not wanting to be left behind, completing the group. Once everyone was filed in on the topic, the conversation started up again.

"Man, Al and Feli and Lovi have got some awesome art up around here!" Gil prompted enthusiastically, perking up at the mention of the Art Trio, as they had been dubbed

"Aw, thanks bro!" Al said, flattered. "You're pretty awesome too! I mean, what with all the battles and wars and crap that you can totally pull out of your ass!"

Arthur smiled, knowing that Gil still hadn't changed his major. The Prussian had always taken a heavy amount of pride in his work, wether it applied to real life or not. The History major had fallen in love with it ever since his high school teacher had managed to get the idea of military strategy in his head. While Gil didn't seem exactly intellectual on the outside, he could rant on and on about the past world. It was a good thing, to see him light up at the mention of wars and history long gone. His favorite quote, one that Arthur had heard many times from him as well as the certain history professor, was: "History is now". And indeed it was, or so it was said to be. To put an end to the almost hostile complimenting war that was about to replace the spitball battles, Matthew strategically swiped out a deck of playing cards.

"MINE" Al yelled as he and Gil both dove for the cards.

Unfortunately, Lovino managed to snatch the cards at the last minute. He smirked as he tossed to empty box off to the side and began absentmindedly shuffling the cards at an impressive speed. He probably could have gone off and made some good money working at a casino or something of the sort.

"Poker?" he asked, knowing the answer before the words even left his lips.

"Texas Hold 'Em!" Alfred said in excited response, the barest hint of a twangy accent making it's way into his voice.

Lovino motioned for all of those who wanted to play to sit and he shuffled the deck for a final time before neatly dealing out the cards. For this first round Arthur, Francis, and Roderich were the only ones who sat out. Roderich moved to sit behind Elizaveta and watched while Francis came to sit next to Arthur.

"Now with our little américain I know he doesn't seem like much, but you've never seen him hold a camera."Francis whispered quietly to Arthur, who still hadn't said anything since his general shock over the fact "Not yet, at least"

Arthur skeptically turned to Francis, who was smiling.

"Is that so" he said, raising an eyebrow.

Francis laughed knowingly. There had been a similar reaction with almost everyone. Alfred had never really fit the stereo typical image of a photographer, which many people might describe as moody, thoughtful, and/or the poetic type. But after awhile, they found that it seemed to fit the American more and more, changing the stereotype rather than the person himself. But that was the kind of person Al was, forever effecting those around him. It was a strange thing for him to major in, but nothing that couldn't be done, Arthur supposed. He glanced over to where the game had started and wondered how many of them were still in school. If the Englishman remembered correctly, Francis was working in Fashion Merchandise while Ludwig stuck loyally to his lifetime pursuit in the area of mechanics and engineering. He discovered that the shy Canadian was dabbling in Culinary Arts, though he had been pursuing a career in Journalism before, just like Arthur was. Or, rather, had. It caused Arthur to take a liking to Matt, since they shared something in common. That didn't happen very often. And then was the third trio of their group. The Music Trio consisted of Roderich, who was practically a legend with his piano skills. He'd been playing since he was a child, maybe since he was three. But it wasn't really the length of years that determined the beauty of his music, but rather the heart he took to it. Elizaveta, a stead fast Vocal major sang with him often, her unique voice carrying lightly over the notes. Her perfect pitch would have helped her tremendously in playing an instrument but she used her voice as if it were a separate part of her body. The final member of the musicians was Antonio, majoring in Guitar. He'd started out on a rickety old guitar handed over to him by his grandfather and finally found his place in finger-style. The complicated movement of fingers that always made it sound like five people were playing instead of one, suited him. He was good at it too, not to mention using it to grab himself a few girls or guys here and there. Speaking of which, Arthur watched the Spaniard playfully attack his Italian, who in return shot away from his grasp in an obviously experienced way. Impressive speed, Arthur thought with an ironic chuckle. Then again, with Francis' grabby hands and Antonio's affection, it must have become an instinctive habit.

"How long have they been tougher?" the Brit asked curiously.

Al, who had been occupied with what looked like a lucky hand of cards, looked quickly over to Arthur.

"I think it's almost their 2 year point" he said, throwing in a couple more chips into the growing pile

"in 2 months" Gil confirmed, a flicker of annoyance flashing across his face as he glanced down at his cards.

"Oh…" Arthur replied "…it's been that long?"

"Oh, fuck it, i fold" the Prussian groaned as he threw down his cards with a loud snap, revealing that he'd had a meager 2 pair.

Al grinned sunnily, finally allowing emotion to show on his carefully managed poker face. He cautiously set his cards face up on the table and everyone who had previously been playing leaned over. Gil blinked at the cards and stood up, incredulous.

"YOU WERE BLUFFING THE ENTIRE TIME?" he yelled, pointing an accusing finger at the America "THIS IS NOT AWESOME"

Al practically cackled as he scraped all the chips towards him, triumphant. The other players who had folded long before surrendered their cards as Feliciano expertly shuffled them into a neat deck. With the round over, Gil sat back down and turned his chair to face Arthur.

"It's been his longest" the silver haired man said, replying to Arthurs unanswered question "One day, they just sort of found each other, and even though Lovi's a stubborn bitch, they knew that it would…well, that something would happen. I don't think i've ever really seen Tonio that happy. Not since…you know"

Arthur nodded, signaling that he needed no further explanation. Antonio had been the first, and only to date, of them to come out of the closet. It had been their junior year in high school and it was sheer good luck, that the Spaniard's good reputation, good looks, and sunny disposition had saved him. It was certainly a shock and no doubt he broke the hearts of the 1/3 of the female student population that didn't belong to Francis or Gilbert. No prior clues had been given and when the word was loose, it spread faster than word of Osama Bin Laden's death. Even his close friends hadn't known, none of them having ever really thought about it. Gil was forever in love with a pretty brunette who was permanently off limits and it was common knowledge that since the beginning of time Francis could put his hands down anyone's pants and be quite content with what he found. Love in general was an alien subject to Arthur at that time so when Antonio announced that he was no less straight than a rainbow, the group took it well. Maybe it was because he had been so open and normal about it. Maybe it was because he'd acted so naturally and calmly. One way or another, the rest of the student body took it with grudging and slightly hostile acceptance. Harsh, but still, acceptance. And even with the slow return to normalcy, Antonio had never really regained the truly happy demeanor he had worn before. He continued to be outwardly cheery but inside, they knew something was off. It continued all the way to their freshman year at the University and so on, until the period of Arthur's absence, in which he met Lovino. Arthur was happy for the the Spaniard, that things had worked out for him. Arthur was almost bitter about it. His life hadn't worked out quite as well, obviously. He couldn't help but harbor a little jealousy at how well everyone seemed to be doing. The others had had their troubles but now they had moved on, gone past the worries that life would present to them. All they had to do now was brace themselves for what might come next. Even Lovi and Feli seemed to be well off on the road towards their aspiring careers and no doubt Al and Mat were living comfortable lives, what with Mat as quiet as he was and Al being a total spaz attack. Arthur sunk back into his chair, stretching like a cat. Well, he'd gotten over the phase of feeling sorry for himself. Now it seemed a bit of a pathetic thing to do. He looked up at the light fwipping sound of a card being waved in front of his face. He frowned, a bit confused and Lovino offered a wry grin.

"Here" he said, handing him the card still facing away from the Brit "They want you to play, tea bastard"

"What?" Arthur asked, shocked

"Well, you've had like a freaking crapload of tea" Lovino explained, as if that solved anything.

Arthur glanced curiously over at Gil and Francis, who had somehow mysteriously joined the game. The two merely shook their heads and told him through telepathy that yes, the strange nickname meant that Lovino didn't totally hate your guts. It also meant that the Italian had finally gotten around to choosing a food or drink to pair with the word bastard. Arthur shrugged at the strange customs and reached for the card, looking at it warily.

"What, exactly, do you all want me to play?" he asked.

"Indian poker!" cheered Alfred, clearly excited to be playing the game, though any form of Poker seemed to suit the American.

"And what's Indian Poker?" Arthur asked in an exasperated tone.

"Its like where you get a card and hold it up to your forehead and then there's this ranking system and then you get to see the others-"

Ludwig calmly cut Alfred off in a surprisingly smooth way and nodded to Arthur.

"It's a form of gambling where everyone has a single card. It's like the game War and you try to get the highest number. But the twist is that you can see everyone's card but yours. So you may have the highest or lowest or somewhere in between. I suppose a lot of bluffing is involved" the German explained in a neat and orderly fashion "The card system goes like this: Spades is the highest suit, with hearts, diamonds, and clubs following last. Within each suit it's numbered with Ace being the highest and 2 being the lowest. So all in all, Ace of Spades is the highest possible card and 2 of Clubs is the lowest. Do you get it?"

Arthur frowned, his eyebrows furrowing as he tried to analyze the game. It sounded so complicated yet simple at the same time. He nodded hesitantly and Ludwig sighed. It was clear that he'd had to explain the game many times before. Arthur raised the card to his forehead, as everyone else had done, and looked around. Most of the cards were weak, ranging from high Clubs to low Hearts. But there was one stray Spades, a 5, that was held in the hands of Elizaveta. Oh, how scary, Arthur thought to himself, though he had absolutely no clue what they were gambling. Before he could raise the question to hand Alfred slapped down a hand on the table.

"I bet at least one dare!" he yelled, blue eyes sparkling. "C'mon, go on and bet up!"

Feliciano passed out napkins and the others proceeded to mark out the number of dares they were willing to risk. Ludwig explained that the winner of the round got the accumulated number of dares, which he or she could expend as they wished, depending on who had bet how many dares. The ultimate loser of the round was given an extra penalty. Arthur furrowed his eyebrows. Oh yes, Elizaveta with that 5 of Spades was now much more frightening. In fact, he wasn't sure if it was better or worse than gambling away money. He hesitantly marked off one dare as the numbers kept soaring. He was itching to go take a look at his card, wondering if he'd been grounded with the lowest number of the deck. Oh, that would suck. Finally, players started dropping out. Feli and Lovi were the first to chicken out, dropping their fairly medium ranked cards. The next was Matthew, who gave up his painfully safe Jack of Hearts. He threw down his card with a snap as he grinned ruefully, looking around at those who were left. There was a brief period where no one moved. Arthur, Antonio, Francis, Gilbert, Roderich, Elizaveta, Ludwig, and Alfred were those left. All of them, surprisingly, stood their ground. Eventually, Roderich set down his card delicately. He had no interest in daring others and once it was revealed that he'd been harboring a Queen of Clubs, he sighed in some relief. The remaining seven players rounded off their final gambles and tossed the napkins to the center of the table.

"Ready?" Gil asked, totally prepared to sweep the game. "GO!"

All of them set down their cards, desperately looking at their own to confirm whether they had lost or won. Elizaveta cheered delightedly as she discovered that she had indeed won the game. She drew the napkins towards her and counted up her winnings, a fiend like glint in her normally gentle eyes. Her success clashed clumsily with Alfred's quite established cursing. Arthur frowned but had to admit that he was impressed with the stray German, French, Spanish, Italian, and possibly Hungarian curses. He supposed that it was a useful skill to have, if one wanted everyone in the group to understand one's anger in their native tongue. Alfred grinned in good sportsmanship as he waved his pitiful 8 of Clubs in Elizaveta's direction.

"So, what would you have me do?" he asked, slightly a slightly worried chuckle vibrating from his throat.

Arthur assumed that Elizaveta was still as good at daring as she always had been. The woman always managed to find enough information for her to turn her dares into deadly blackmails. Not that it was an entirely bad thing but it was certainly something to be feared. The Brit assumed that Alfred as well as the others had been caught multiple times in her devilish net work of embarrassing information.

"I think i'll tell you that later, dear" she said with an almost evil sounding laugh, which off set the endearment attached to the end of her response.

Al shrugged and stretched like a cat. Matthew had gathered the cards and took his turn in shuffling.

"Another round, shall we?" Francis said airily.

Arthur shook his head. If he remembered correctly, the number of dares he'd already gambled off was quite high. He didn't want to find out what would happen if he were indebted anymore, lest the dares fall into the wrong hands. Which could pretty much be anyone in the group, save Matthew, bless the boy's heart. Even sunny Antonio was well known for his 'Pirate' days. Francis pouted as he waved a card in front of him.

"Aw, c'mon Arthur!" Feliciano said, echoed by Antonio.

"It'll be fun, no? _Por favor, mi amigo_" the Spaniard said. "Have some fun in your life!"

"No, i'd rather not risk it" the blonde said wryly, holding his ground.

"Don't be such a buttface!" Alfred shot back energetically, his voice peaking brightly.

"A WHAT?" Arthur said, appalled.

Several minutes were spent with the explaining of the term 'buttface' or, rather, the attempt to explain. It only ended when Matthew finally managed to put an end it by yelling the word 'hamburger'. Alfred immediately shut up, momentarily distracted, but frowned almost immediately after. Matthew chuckled as Alfred whined in annoyance. The twin had found that it was a surprisingly effective way to bag the attention of his older twin. It didn't always work, since Alfred did happen to have a brain but most of the time when he was caught unaware, it was enough.

"Arthur, just play the damned game" Roderich said exasperatedly, growing tired of the arguing.

"Or i'll let half the city know about Gil's 21st birthday party" Elizaveta said easily.

"Do it Lizzie!" Gil yelled "Do it!"

Arthur's eyes widened a fraction and he sighed, scowling. Gilbert's 21st birthday had been one of the worst experiences with alcohol he'd ever dealt with. It was pure good luck that the entire city didn't already know about it, or the swimming pool full of beer, or the several other activities that were probably against the city rules and ordinances. The resurfacing of the memory caused him to wince. It was something he'd been glad to forget, though the others obviously took care to keep it in the back of their heads for future use. He dejectedly took the card but pointed it outwards, smirking just a little.

"Oh bloody hell. I'll play" he said in an irritated tone of voice. "But one of you guys go somewhere and get me a good glass of scotch or something"

"Still quite the drinker?" Francis said with a chuckle.

"Oh shut up" Arthur said darkly.

"So, are you ready?" Feliciano cut in, eager to start the round

"Hell yeah!" Lovino said, determined to win back his share of wasted dares "Bring it on, bastards"

"Oh please, like you could do anything. You fight like a panda!" Alfred shot back with laughter.

"My Lovi can totally fight!~" Antonio declared valiantly

"Against another panda, probably" the American muttered.

"What did you say?" Lovino and Antonio asked, rising at the same time, an aura resembling some sort of gang fight emanating from both of them.

Matthew and Feliciano both raced to rescue the America, for fear that the round might never start. As the betting began Arthur, who still hadn't gotten the much needed glass of scotch, scowled. He grabbed another napkin and joined in the furious betting while rubbing his temples as if to curse away the oncoming headache that was inevitable to happen. Well, shit was going down and it was about to go down fast.

By the time the game had ended, the sun had sunk low and Arthur glanced down at the watch he wore on his wrist. To his surprise, it was already curfew. He made a frown at the broken numbers on the digital surface of the watch. Curfew, at his age? The very thought of it made the Brit cringe. He sighed and stood up. Time had passed surprisingly fast. Back when he was at the hospital, it seemed like time had never existed to begin with. Every day was the same, same boring walls, same people, same everything. The sudden return to a place with time that actually moved disoriented him. The others looked up when they saw him rise, questioning looks on their faces.

"It's about time i have to go back" he said off handedly in return.

"Already? Why,_ mon cher_?" Francis asked, aghast at why Arthur would even want to leave the party that involved him in the least.

Arthur bristled in frustration. Of course the Frenchman had to ask why. Why did the French always have to know everything? Arthur fumbled around for an answer, any excuse but he'd always been really bad at lying so eventually, after a moment's hesitation or so, he just told the truth.

"I have a curfew, bloody frog!" he said, annoyed.

Francis clapped a hand over his mouth as he tried to hide the fact that he was laughing. Gil erupted into faux coughing and almost doubled over until Antonio had to pound him in the back. When he didn't rise up immediately Elizaveta brought her elbow down on his back, hitting it for good measure. Gil collapsed and Arthur raised an eyebrow. The Hungarian was as strong as ever, probably more so than any of the men here. Which was kind of sad, but at this point, Arthur did agree that Gil needed a beating. In fact, he wouldn't be surprised if all of them were only half alive by tomorrow morning.

"So then, since i have a bloody curfew, i'll be leaving" he said, glaring pointedly at Francis.

In return, the blonde threw an arm around the Brit's shoulders, laughing. The Brit had always been cranky, probably since the beginning of time or something. The reaction was the regular push, though it was strangely tired. As Arthur attempted to get Francis off of him, Gil stood up, groaning like he'd been run through a cotton gin and managed a smile.

"Curfew, hm?" he asked, jokingly, not being able to help but drag on the joke a little longer.

Arthur promptly turned around and began to walk off, only to be dragged back by Francis. Elizaveta had twisted Gil's arm behind his back and he was squirming under her grasp. Alfred was laughing loudly, turning away as he wiped away the tears that had collected at the corners of his eyes. He took off his glasses and quickly cleaned them before putting them back on. Next to him, Canada wore a torn look, like he didn't know whether to follow Al and bust out laughing or be worried for Gil's well being. A satisfied smirk danced across Lovi's lips as Ludwig frowned and Feli giggled. The only one who seemed to be quite calm was the Austrian, who was seated with a plate of torte. Roderich face palmed lightly and looked up at Arthur, shaking his head.

"Well, then, go on" he said, waving his hand towards Arthur "You don't want to be late, do you?"

Arthur sighed and threw his hands up. Really, none of them acted their age, childish as they were. Roderich even acted older sometimes.

"Thank the Queen, finally someone who understands!" he said. "And you, Gil, i trust will be dead by the next time i see you, so it was nice seeing you again. I'll bring something to the funeral"

"Hopefully not your gross foo-OW!" he yelped as Elizaveta pulled at his arm, close to dislocating his entire shoulder.

"Bye Arthur! Come see us again soon!" she said cheerily, completely unaware of Gil's pain.

The others said their goodbyes and Arthur waved back, beginning the short walk back to the hospital. When he was not too far away, he turned back one last time. The group had begun to sit back down in their seats, some sitting, some standing and some half way in-between. One of the people still fully standing was a tall blonde. He turned and saw Arthur. His cerulean eyes, even from a distance, seemed to light up. He raised his hand in a wave and Arthur raised an eyebrow in return. Al grinned and then ducked away, feeling Canada pull at his shirt sleeve. Arthur sighed and he too turned back in the direction of the hospital. It had been a strange day. But it had been a nice one.

And for some strange reason, he couldn't quite seem to forget that grin and those sky blue eyes.

Not long after Arthur had left, the Vargas brothers as well as the twins began to drift off in the general direction of the University. All three art majors were occupied portfolios to fill and the younger twins claimed to have an exam in the morning. The three men who were left behind lingered, finding that they had nothing to do and nowhere to go. And so they walked aimlessly, tracing a twisting path that somehow managed to end up at the dorms. It wasn't an unfamiliar situation. They'd walked around town a lot as high school student, pranking and causing general havoc. Some people even said that you'd see the trio coming from afar but that when they passed the familiar line up of Francis, Gilbert, and Antonio would be the thing they'd remember most. That image of their broad backs, confidently tall with heads thrown back in laughter. But today, there was no laughter. There was only thoughtful silence.

"So…how do you think he is?" Gil asked, his hands shoved into his pockets.

There was a short pause. maybe a hesitation, before Antonio spoke.

"He's still…very much Arthur" he replied "But he's not quite himself, don't you think, mis amigos?"

Francis shrugged, his eyebrow furrowing a little

"_Angleterre_ was always, well, fiery, i suppose" the Frenchman mused "or irritated, to say the least. Now it seems like he's lost to the world. Or dead to it"

"I wouldn't say dead exactly. I'd say that-"

"That he's given up" Gil finished, lightly cutting Antonio off.

"Si" the Spaniard confirmed, in his native language, accompanied with a quick nod.

"_Oui"_ Francis replied, following suit.

"Good" Gil said, breathing out "That means i wasn't dreaming it"

**A/N: God, this was such a boring chapter and that it was really random XD. The next one will be more exciting (i hope) since this one was just introducing the involved characters. PLEASE REVIEW. I WANT YOUR FEEDBACK!**


	3. Hello, How Are You

**First and foremost….Happy Awesome Day everyone! (March 10th) And i bring to you, chapter 3! I hope this gets the plot started, since this is one of the only serious stories i write (the other one could almost border on crack, i suppose, but not really ^^)**

**Thanks to: Umbreon12, ItalianBurgerBastardXD, foreversnowynights, BeautifullyMisshapen, Lilsandstorm, Nietzshce's bitch, alguien22792, shadowbird11 and CelestialCiel.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>It was two days after Arthur had caught up with the rest of the world, and the Brit was seated comfortably in a corner of the hospital library with a sizable stack of books which included several Sherlock Holmes mysteries, some Shakespeare, and other novels with some stray Keats and Tennyson. Being the Journalism major that he was, he did have personal goals to hold up to. Arthur flipped calmly through the current book he was reading as he glanced out the window. He'd been outside as much as he could the past two days, enjoying the freedom. The city had changed much over the span of 2 years and offered many new places for the Brit to get lost in. It had expanded considerably and buildings he searched for gone, torn down while being replaced by other neo-modern ones. He never really saw anyone, since they were occupied with their studies but he was perfectly content with wandering alone. With a sigh, Arthur read the last few lines of the extensive volume he was reading and gently shut the book closed. It had been a good one, though not one of the best. As he leaned over and reach for another book, a loud electronic tone shattered the air, nearly shooting out his ear drums.<p>

_'My hips don't lie~'_

Arthur flushed furiously and dove for his phone, which was belting out the Shakira song at max volume. He fumbled to flip it open and found that the caller ID read: _Le Tres Bien Moi_. The Brit gritted his teeth as he brought the phone to his ear. When had Francis managed to enter his number into contacts AND give himself a specified ringtone? Arthur pressed the green 'call' button and spoke, waving away the worried staff workers who had come to investigate.

"Damn you frog!" he hissed into the phone.

"_But Artie did you get my gift?_" Francis' voice practically oozed over the line.

Arthur drew the phone away from his ear and held it out with 2 fingers. He frowned disdainfully at it, as if Francis could feel, or, rather, hear his annoyance.

"If you mean that horrendously loud ringtone of yours, then yes" he said dryly.

Francis laughed at his tone of voice. There was a rustling of fabric and a random burst of slightly accented French. It wasn't very good French, Arthur noted, definitely not as good as his own accented version. Francis replied in his own smooth native tongue before answering the Brit in english.

"_Well, Angleterre, we're coming to pick you up tonight~_" he chortled, a slight rustle signifying that he was holding the phone between his ear and his shoulder.

"What? Why?" Arthur asked in a surprised voice.

"_Because it's movie night tonight, mon cher"_ the man replied as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

Movie nights. Really. Movie. Nights. The Brit deadpanned as he sighed and ran a hand through his already perpetually messy hair. Honestly, they were full grown men.

"And why, exactly, am I to attend this?" he asked.

_"Cause you're our friend. And you've just returned from that awful tiny shell of yours that you've been holed up in"_ the Frenchman replied, followed by more random French.

Arthur scowled but sighed in submission. He'd hate to become such a loner, though that's how he'd spent the past two years. He should've been used to it by now but returning to human presence was a bit comforting, actually. He felt like a young child who'd been given the barest taste of something sweet, only to have it taken away from him again. But since he wasn't such a child, instead of the fits one would throw, he merely suppressed the incredible yearning to go chasing after it. But nonetheless, the yearning was the same.

"I…I suppose I could…" the Brit muttered grudgingly, eyebrows furrowing together.

Francis chuckled in that suave way of his and the phone rustled around for a moment.

"_I knew you would"_ he said happily, his voice muffled by the pins he held in his mouth _"We'll swing by the hospital no later than 7?"_

"Fine, fine, fine. And no, I will not have you getting back into the habit of calling me '_mon cher_' nor '_rosbif_' again" Arthur replied shortly.

"_Ah, but your French is as splendid as always!"_ the Frenchman crowed as he heard the familiar way Arthur curled his mouth around the French words, hinting the barest English accent_ "Now, cher, I've got some work to attend to so i'll see you then. All my love~"_

"Goodbye, frog" Arthur said, rolling his eyes as he flipped the phone shut before Francis could.

Well, it wasn't like he could always let the Frog have the last word, now was it? He gently tossed the phone off to the side and leaned back into his chair. Goodness, what had he gotten himself into this time. He was never much of a movie person to begin with and he was sure that the movie choices were either to be a gory horror type with lots of killing blood and suspense, or a chick flick filled with undeniable fluff. He attempted to pick up a book and get started on it but it seemed that his brain wasn't able to fully concentrate on reading. His head was just too full of other things, which wasn't all too strange. His emerald eyes slid to look out the window. It was a beautiful day, really. The sun was shifting in between the puffy clouds that managed to hover in the air without the threat of rain and a slight breeze blew gently. It was warmer than usual and the change in weather was quite nice. He set the book back down on the stack he knew would be cleaned up and shelved after he left. A glance down at his watch told him that he still had a good amount of time until the Frog and his minions would come to pick him up and a walk seemed like a good idea. And so he left, still smiling every time he walked out of the hospital's automatic doors. It was a small freedom, to be able to walk out the doors of a building, but it brought him much more happiness than it should have. He would've laughed, if he saw fit to, in fact. He sauntered along as he usually did, without any particular purpose. He passed the shopping district and the offices and tall business buildings that lined the streets until they opened into a small park. As he did so, a pair of swing sets caught his attention. It was an obviously old swing set, the paint chipped off the metal and rust beginning to slightly form. It was part of a very old playground, one that had been here since he was a child. It was made of wood and sand. It was rather fascinating, to someone older, though it was obviously overshadowed by the gleaming new, multicolored, plastic play ground that the younger generation preferred. It looked quite lonely, actually. Arthur remembered when he was a child, when this particular park was the place he'd have the best memories. It was still bustling with people, as it had been, but that playground was now virtually abandoned. Arthur trudged over to it and resisted the urge to set a hand on the old wood, smoothed from age. He felt like a kid again. He gave the play set a light tap for the sake of good memories before moving out of the sand, to spare his shoes from the terror that was sand inside your shoes. By the playground, the green grass of the park opened into a shimmering lake. It wasn't a very big one, but geese still swam in it and it was surrounded by benches. Arthur's eyes softened a little as he smiled. It had been a very very long time he thought, since he'd revisited his childhood. He sat down, hoping he didn't look to awkward or lonely, and stared at the lake. He used to do that a lot as a kid, since his parents had said that the water reflected off his eyes. He liked to think of it that way. There was a quiet click and Arthur twitched, breaking out of his reverie. He slowly turned around and found that, to his surprise, he was facing Alfred. Well, the boy was just full of surprises, wasn't he? The American was dressed casually in fitted jeans and a navy colored hoodie, the word 'HERO' plastered obnoxiously across the front. In his hands, he held a Canon EOS Rebel T3i, with the strap winding around his neck. He grinned cheerily and waved as Arthur narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

"What was that for?" the Brit asked irritably as he swatted the camera away while he frowned, glaring at Alfred all the while.

The other chuckled as he came to sit on the bench next to Arthur. Arthur resisted the urge to scoot away.

"What, I don't even get a hello?" the American asked, flashing a small almost shy grin.

Arthur blinked. Well. He was certainly friendly, considering that they were practically strangers.

"Hello" he said in a short off-handed way.

Alfred laughed, his eyes sparkling intelligently as he gestured around the park. And yet was still as childish as ever, the Brit noted.

"So, what are you doing here?" the American asked.

Arthur shrugged. He would never admit it out loud but this lake was one of the few places he felt home at. It was a pretty place, the water a sheen of dark bottle glass green that highlighted the surrounding grass. His father had told him that once, long ago, when the water was clean, that it was nearly the same shade of pale sparkling green as Arthur's eyes. Green water? Arthur had asked. His father had simply laughed and patiently explained the growth of algae in the shallow water.

"I...was just taking a walk" the Englishman said in reply "And you?"

In return, Alfred held up his camera and snapped a picture of the Brit. For a moment, Arthur blinked confusedly until his brain processed what had happened.

"Stoppit!" he said as Alfred laughed.

"Camera shy, aren't you?" The American asked

"I am not!" the Brit said defensively, looking away "I...I just don't like...getting my photo taken"

"Soooo...camera shy" Alfred repeatedly ruefully.

"Sod off" was Arthurs short, if not slightly pissed answer.

Alfred laughed out loud at the Brit's response, a clear sound that drew Arthur's attention towards him. In broad daylight, Al looked even younger than his mere 19 years. The sunlight caught on his dirty blonde hair and the Englishman could now clearly see the almost permanent smudges on his glasses. His face, angled to the light, became sharper but the blinding grin across his face repelled the several years seriousness might have added. But the most defining feature, or so Arthur thought, was the American's eyes. Well, in the least creepiest way possible, that is. In all honesty, they were beautiful. Again, in the least creepiest way possible. They reminded Arthur of his childhood, of freedom. When he wasn't such a burden and a coward. When he still believed that love was the strongest possible power on the face of the earth, the span of the universe, When he was just too stupid to know when to give up. The gentle click of that oh so familiar camera going off again brought an immediate scowl to Arthur's lips.

"Wow..." Alfred said, looking through the pictures he's taken "...you make a great model"

Arthur groaned as Al looked over the camera. Really, if he'd used his brain in any other way than sneaking inconspicuous pictures of others, he actually might be somewhere other than sitting on a park bench with a once suicidal Brit.

"A model? We've just met, Alfred" Arthur replied in an overtly annoyed tone.

Alfred merely shrugged "To a photographer, all the world's his subject"

The Englishman simply rolled his eyes. When had Alfred gotten so deep about the ways of the world? It almost surprised the Brit, how easily Alfred had warmed up to him. They'd only met, what was it, a few days ago? And then it was only through mutual friends, even if those mutual friends happened to be Francis, Gilbert, and Antonio. They'd grown up together, so the friendship, though not taken for granted, came naturally to Arthur. But this boy, this ridiculously spastic child of a man, found no need to take offense to the brittle and harsh Englishman. He found no barrier, which the Brit had established very carefully over the years, to jump over. He was a strange kid, no doubt.

"Well, none the less, we've only just met. I'm surprised you even remember my name" he said wryly.

"I have a good memory!" Al replied cheerily as he tapped his temple with his index finger.

"I'm sure" was Arthur's skeptical answer.

"I do!" Alfred protested loudly, waving his arms around as he continued to voice his argument.

"Whatever you say" Arthur drawled in a lazy response, stopping the American from carrying on for much longer "Speaking of which, don't you have better things to do, Mr. Obnoxious Hero?"

"Me?" the younger blonde asked, blinking at the sudden change of subject "Well, I'm working on a class project"

"And you've got time to spare to sit around like this?" the Brit scolded, an eyebrow raised.

"Well, yeah! It's not like I can take pictures inside a classroom" Alfred responded, shrugging non-commitedly.

"Says the one who, I quote said 'to a photographer, all the world's his subject'" Arthur muttered.

Alfred pouted childishly, a slight whine escaping his lips. Arthur merely shot a glare in his direction, telling him to 'man up' and turned his gaze back to the lake. Apparently, his quiet little trip to his childhood would not be continuing, interrupted by this twat of an American. Life certainly was a bitch, offering the worst of its blessings at just the wrong times.

_'Thank you, Life. Honestly, if I were married to you, I would be wondering why I haven't divorced you at least three times by now. Asshat pig'_ he thought darkly.

As the Brit vented, just a little, in his head the American at his side made no further comment. Alfred remained silent as he snapped pictures of the lake. He stood up and wandered for a moment, taking photos as he deemed fit and seemed to trail off into his own world. Arthur expected him to leave but the camera case that he left behind, being the only sign that he had even been there to begin with, signaled that he would be back. And so he did, returning after a lengthy trip.

"Did you get any good photos?" the Englishman asked politely.

"Yeah" Alfred replied, holding up the camera as he indicated the brightly colored though strangely abstract flower and patch of grass that Arthur could see. He sat back down to view his work, occasionally turning the screen to allow Arthur to get a view of whatever particularly good shot he'd taken.

"How did you get to meet them? The Frog and Antonio and Gilbert, I mean" Arthur asked suddenly as Alfred turned away for a moment.

"Them?" Alfred answered with a question of his own "Well, we met them when we came to the University"

"Hm…" Arthur hummed "You weren't always here, were you"

"Well, no" the American said, turning his eyes to meet the Brit's as he set down the camera "Why?"

Arthur blinked into Alfred's cerulean eyes, noticing how the sunlight brought out odd flecks of amber near the irises. Strange, he thought. It was barely a second before he realized what he was doing and he absently turned his own emerald eyes away.

"Honestly, Gilbert, Francis, Antonio, Elizaveta, and I have pretty much known each other for all our lives" Arthur explained. "You can't have known them for very long, yet they accept you easily"

"Well, I met the twins through Art school, duh, and I met Gil at some sort of club or party or some other random shit going on. And then Lovi met Tonio and from there on it went totally downhill" Alfred replied.

"Downhill? How so?" Arthur asked, feeling protectively irritated over the two's relationship.

"Um, I don't really know….Oh! I don't mean downhill in a bad way or anything!" Alfred hurried to correct himself, tripping over his words "….I mean that it's like, you know, once you get to know them, you're stuck with them for life! I'm glad we met them, honest, cause they're really awesome and all"

Arthur raised his eyes slightly at how much the young American was rambling. Of course, he believed that Alfred had no reason to hate or even dislike his close, albeit a little maddening, group of friends. It was simply too genuine, what they seemed to share. But what did irk the Brit was how sensitive Alfred was about Antonio and Lovino. God forbid, he was one of those absolutely ass-hat like twits who leapt at every moment to flame homosexuality. Arthur could tell that the American was discomforted about the relationship, though perhaps not the people themselves. What could it be? Honestly, Arthur didn't know. As Alfred continued in rambling quite nonsensically, Arthur waited for him to shut up. Which he did eventually, once he finally realized how awkward it was. Obviously, he was terrible at reading the mood, Arthur thought to himself, his inner voice sounding exasperated even to him.

"But becoming friends with them seriously made college so much better" Alfred said in conclusion, sounding somewhat pleased that he managed to tie off the loose string.

"You're only a sophomore" Arthur commented.

"But I really had no clue what the hell I was doing when I left high school" Alfred said, looking down at his hands, which were clasped together as his elbows rested on his knees. "Mat and I came from a really tiny town you know. Like, my graduating class was less than 500 people."

"But haven't you wanted to become a photographer for a long time now?"

"Um, not really. Mat already had planned out what he wanted to do and everything. He's always so organized and he knew exactly what he was going to do. But I just….kind of followed him" Alfred said quietly.

Arthur shot a sidelong glance at Alfred and was only very mildly surprised to find that instead of an annoying American, he found himself seeing a young man who had no clue what he wanted from life. A little sadness entered the Brit's emerald eyes. He'd never really known what he'd wanted from life. He'd tried, of course, but he found time and again that he really seemed to have no purpose.

"Well, you seem to be doing well now" Arthur said shortly, forcing his brain to be erased blank.

"Yeah…." muttered Alfred, clearly content.

Arthur rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. There was another one of those silences between them. Arthur made no attempt to fill them in, he never really saw the need to. It was only until Alfred's phone began ringing that it occurred to Arthur any time had passed at all. Alfred reached into his back pocket and pulled out a blue cased iPhone. He brought it to his ear and took the call with a quick 'Yo!'. Arthur could hear Feliciano's distinctive voice over the speaker and smirked as Alfred's face began to morph from a lazy expression to one of surprise and then annoyance.

"Shit! Okay, i'll be there in like a minute, bro!" he said, making sure to listen to Feliciano's last words before he hung up.

He leapt up from the bench, slinging the camera around his neck with considerable force. Arthur winced, fearing for its condition as Alfred tossed it around.

"I've got classes!" he said, beginning to move off in the direction of the Art school "I'll catch you later, Artie!"

"Don't call me that!" Arthur yelled, pissed, as Alfred laughed before sprinting off.

The American yelled something over his shoulder but the only thing Arthur could hear was his obnoxiously loud laughter. Arthur glared until Alfred disappeared from sight. It wasn't all too surprising that the idiot had forgotten he'd even had classes to begin with. Arthur dismissed the thought and sat alone for awhile. There was nothing but him and the trees, the lake, memories, and the gentle chatter of people in the background. He was used to it but the sudden disappearance of the sunny disposition who had been at his side only seemed to make the loneliness sharper.

_'Oh, what the hell am i thinking'_ Arthur berated himself as he stood up, not quite being able to stand it anymore.

With a last glance back at the pond, he smiled at the rush of childhood memories and began the distant walk back to the hospital.

**7:00 PM, University College Hospital**

Arthur yawned, clearly bored, into the palm of his hand as he waited in front of the hospital. It wasn't all to cold yet he still managed to shiver in his thin jacket. It had passed seven quite a few minutes ago and the Brit was becoming steadily more annoyed. If they'd wanted him to come in the first place, the least they could do was be on time, ride or no. He tapped his foot against the newly laid concrete as he waited. He looked up at the hospital, craning his neck to get a better look at the building. From the outside, especially at night, the hospital looked metro-modern. It was all glass, steel, and glass tinted a shade of greenish blue. It looked very professional, Arthur though wryly. A loud honk brought his eyes back down to the street, where a sleek black car had pulled into the loop. The window rolled down and Antonio waved from the shot gun seat. Francis winked coyly from where he was driving, which meant that Gilbert had to be in the back. Oh joy. With Francis driving and Gilbert in the back to torture him, Arthur almost feared the ride there more than the actual movie night. Arthur walked briskly to the car and slid into the back seat, greeting the trio.

"Ready?" Francis asked, calling to the back.

Arthur snapped on his seatbelt, wondering if he should take further precautions. It had been a long long time since he'd been in any sort of vehicle. It was only grand luck that Francis happened to be driving. But then again, Francis was only a terrible driver when he wanted to be.

"Yes, frog" he replied shortly.

With a light laugh, Francis pulled smoothly out of the hospital and onto the road. They'd only been moving for a few minutes when, at Gilbert's request, Antonio turned on the radio and scrolled easily to the exact channel. Arthur yelped as horrendously loud techno-dance music blared from the speakers. And, of course, the entire trio began singing with the male lead.

"Ah, Girl look at that body! Ah, Girl look at that body!" Francis oozed, turning halfway behind in his seat at a red light to look at Arthur, a knowing smile splayed across his lips.

"I-I-I WORK OUT" Gilbert bellowed, laughter bubbling up. "I-I-I WORK OUT"

"When I walk in the spot, this is what I see" Antonio sang from his seat "Everybody stops and they staring at me"

"Got passion in my pants and I ain't afraid to show it" Francis said, taking the last line. "show it, show it"

"I'm sexy and I know it" Antonio finished, his voice practically melting into a chocolate puddle of some otherworldly voice that even Arthur had to admit surpassed the original singer's by far.

Arthur put his head in his hands and sighed. Honestly. It was going to be a long long ride. But the song only lasted for 3 minutes or so and he was saved of hearing the trio proclaim they were sexy and they knew it for too long. Arthur glanced up as Francis pulled the car to a stop in front of a large building. It was nice place, a much nicer place than one would expect of someone in their mid 20s.

"You've upgraded" the Brit said dryly as he stepped out of the car after Gil.

"Well, _mon cher_, it's not like Gilbert, Antonio, and I are poor" Francis replied as he promptly locked the car doors and checked for affirmation.

Arthur raised an eyebrow but didn't bother to comment any further. He supposed it wasn't all too surprising that the three were still rooming together as they had since they'd entered the University. Though, really, he couldn't imagine where all the money came from. Gilbert's family wasn't particularly rich and neither was Antonio's or Francis', though the Brit could say they were fairly well off. The 4 entered the apartment building through the main lobby, which was small but neat and clean with marble floors. They piled into the library and took the short ride up to the 3rd floor. Arthur was sure that it was no coincidence that the trio had managed to snag a room on that specific floor. When he caught sight of the number on the door to which Antonio was punching into the pass code to he was sure that that was no coincidence either. It was 143 and Arthur was sure it was Francis' doing. He'd be a little embarrassed to admit they he knew that the numbers 143 represented 'I love you'. It was so ridiculously corny. The door bleeped indignantly as the wrong passcode was entered and Antonio leaned back irritably.

"Oi, Francis" he said, and eyebrow raised quizzically "Did you change the pass code again?"

"No, _cher!_ I'm not that evil" the blonde said in a tearful rendition of some dramatically pathetic persona.

Gilbert rolled his eyes, muttering something along the lines of 'that not what you said last time', and nudged the Spaniard out of the way as he swept a hand across the now black surface of the screen. Blue numbers immediately surfaced at his touch and he pressed in a code. The door opened with a happy series of dings and the door opened.

_'Fancy…_' Arthur thought as he followed the others in.

It was dark inside the apartment, save for the dim glow of a lamp and the reflection of the TV that was currently playing the beginning of some movie. Those who had gotten there before were already sprawled across the couch, the floor, and the lone armchair that occupied one corner of the spacious living room. Alfred and Matthew were laying on the floor in front of the TV, almost covered in the mound of pillows they had claimed and Lovino sat in the puffy armchair with his arms crossed. Feliciano and Ludwig were cuddling, much to the embarrassment of the German, on the couch. They all looked up simultaneously as the 4 newcomers entered.

"Hey guys!" Alfred said, lighting up as he looked up.

"Hello" Matthew said in greeting as he offered a shy smile through his glasses.

Arthur nodded and murmured a quiet greeting. Lovino merely gave a nod in return and Feliciano gave a preppy rendition of Matthew's hello as Ludwig muttered a gruff hello that was not at all unkind.

"So what, do you all come around often?" Arthur asked as he peered around at the people.

"Nah, it's just an excuse for Gil and Lud to drink" Al said from where he had stood up, tossing the Brit a beer "Nice to see you again Artie"

"Enough with the nickname" Arthur scowled as he snatched the bottled from mid air.

Al chuckled as he turned his attention back to the TV. Antonio, Gilbert, and Francis grabbed their respective drinks and found a seat. 'Seat; specifically meaning sandwiched between Matt and Al, flung all over the sweet Canadian and Arthur, sprawled on the couch with an arm slung around Ludwig's shoulders, or snuggling up to a flustered Lovino's side. Arthur managed to worm his way out from Francis' stray arms, leaving Matthew to be tortured, and found an empty spot of ground. Alfred was sitting next to him, laughing as he watched Francis and Gilbert tease his brother playfully. Antonio and Lovino continued the watch the movie, as did Ludwig and Feliciano. Apparently, it was quite normal for this to happen.

"Don't you get worried?" Arthur asked.

"Of what, Francey Pants?" The American asked, blinking through the light that reflected off the TV and to his glasses.

Arthur raised an eyebrow at the strange nickname but nodded all the same. Anyone and everyone should have been wary with of the Frenchman. Alfred shrugged nonchalantly.

"I think I can trust him. And if he does something, then he's knows shit will go down so, yeah" he replied.

Arthur sighed and turned his attention back to the TV, as Lovino began shouting at the others to: 'shut the fuck up and sit down, dammit'. Spain grabbed Lovi around the waist and pulled him back down before the fiery Italian went and killed someone. The others obeyed grudgingly and the room became silent, momentarily immersed within the plot of the movie. It was the second of Arthurs predictions, a chick flick. The scenery was bright and cheery and maybe a little to sunny to be entirely real. There was the lead man, a tall guy, brunette, well built and reasonably to heartbreakingly good looking. Oh, and there was the motorbike or nice car that was absolutely required. And then the lead woman appears. A beautiful woman, or pretty in the very least. Dressed impeccably in the latest fashions with sweeping hair and painfully high heels. The two meet, run across the vengeful fangirl or two, end up falling in love. In the middle of a particularly lagging part of the movie, Arthur heard, almost felt, Alfred stretch next to him. The American yawned like a cat as he sighed contentedly. He certainly seemed happy with the way the movie was going, though it could be totally predictable. Arthur supposed the genre admittedly fit the blonde's personality quite well. As much as Arthur had seen of it, anyways. The movie began to reach it's climax, the part when the main characters always make up after whatever spat they'd had before. When the two would find that, no matter what troubles and hardships came, they would always find love in the end. It was sweet in a bittersweet way. Arthur found that he was strangely compelled to pay full attention to it. He'd never been one for movies in general, much less chick flicks, but he couldn't seem to keep his eyes off the film. The room was eerily silent, all eyes on the TV. It was funny how all of them became so immersed in the film. Only after the very end, when the credits rolled, did the tension in the room release and they sat about in a slight daze, blinking as the lights flicked on. It was that strange in-between space after the end of the movie and before the return to reality where you simply floated. Arthur couldn't remember feeling as…carefree before. It was a nice feeling, to be sitting with friends. The others came around and blinked at each other, smiles gracing their lips.

"That was a pretty awesome movie, bro" Gilbert said as he rolled around on the floor.

"Non, non, it was…how do you say it…lacking in love?" Francis said critically There was no-"

Knowing what must've been coming next, Alfred dived for the Frenchman and covered his mouth. Just in time too, Arthur thought.

"Just because it's not R-rated doesn't mean it's a good chick flick" the American yelled, attempting to drown out his friend's muffled protests.

Francis wiggled around until he was able to speak again. Arthur winced, wondering what R-rated subject was about to sprout from his mouth. Gilbert and Ludwig attempted to get the Frenchman to shut up as Antonio somehow managed to cover up both the Italian brothers' ears. Feliciano giggled uncontrollably as the full-grown men wrestled between shouts of laughter. Gilbert had Francis in a headlock while Alfred was hoisting the man up by his feet. All of them were considerably strong and Arthur was surprised that the neighbors didn't call the police on the men. Eventually, Antonio threw himself into the game with a joyful shout and they all dog piled on each other with a painful thud. Just when they thought it was over, some genius began to tickle Antonio. The Spaniard, who Arthur knew as a major tickle victim, collapsed into laughter he was trying to hold in. The dog pile became a tickle monster fight and Feliciano promptly dragged himself and Lovino to the middle of it. The way the elder Italian was blushes made Arthur chuckle. No better way to integrate yourself than drag in your sibling with you. Speaking of which, Arthur remembered his earlier conversation with Alfred.

"Matthew" Arthur mused curiously "Is Alfred in love with Lovino or Antonio?"

The Canadian made a squeak of confusion, clearly taken aback by the strange question. Arthur flushed, embarrassed for asking such a dense and sensitive question. It was stupid, really, to ask the shy boy about who Alfred liked, just like a love-sick high school girl would but Arthur was curious as to how he acted. Perhaps the American wasn't the Gold Boy they all thought him to be.

"Oh no" Matt snorted in reply, vigorously shaking his head "Definitely not. Why?"

Arthur shrugged non-committedly. He'd hate to cause trouble between the twins, because, as he knew, most brotherly fights didn't end well.

"He seems a bit awkward about their relationship, so i wondered if he was in love with one of them"

Matt cracked a smile, which let Arthur relax. He was afraid that Matt would have flipped, since he did not appear to really go for guys. Actually, in all honesty, the shy Canadian was probably, while the most normal, the one that could've easily swung either way. And not like Francis' way either.

"Actually, it's exactly the opposite" Mat replied "Al's a bit of a homophobe"

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><p><strong>AN: And that's the beginning of the drama llama! And yes, our dear Alfie is a homophobe. You'll see later why and how he copes with it….but only if you guys give me a review! ONLY. OR ELSE STEVE WILL EAT YOU-/shot**

**(1) University College Hospital really is a hospital in London. I thought that name most fitting, since i just refer to the school as the 'University'. **

**(2) Those of you who know your literature may notice something USUK-y about the list of books Iggy was reading ^^**


	4. The Minor Fall

This was a very messy chapter so it may be a bit iffy here and there ^^ I guess Alfie being a homophobe did throw a total wrench in all the USUK-ness but oh, well, love's a bitch.

Thanks to: alguien22792, rherhe23, CoolBreeze89, too lazy to login, CelestialCiel, Drawing Flower, ApathyReignsSupreme, jillyred, and Double 0 Ninja. Your reviews, story alerts, favorites, etc., are much appreciated ^^

And back to the drama llama...

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><p>"He…he is?" Arthur asked, genuinely shocked.<p>

No wonder he'd acted as he had, Arthur thought bitterly, not being able to help the now biased opinion he held towards the American. Arthur had come across his own fair share of homophobes in the past and could certainly say that they were not pleasant at all. The Brit didn't exactly prefer men, per se. Nor did he prefer women. And he definitely did not prefer inanimate objects either. In fact, Arthur didn't know quite what he was. Simply a stranger to love in general. But homophobes, as homophobes went, did not really care as long as you were a viable target. Arthur threw a pointed look at the younger twin as he crossed his arms protectively over his chest. Matt shrugged in response, albeit a little awkwardly about the situation. His indigo eyes glanced around and seemed to scrutinize the Brit. They weren't unkind eyes, but certainly wary.

"It'd probably be best to explain it to you. I have a feeling you'll be around for a long long time Arthur" he said slowly, a strange look crossing his face as he grew thoughtful.

"Explain what?" Arthur muttered.

"It'll matter" Matthew said in reply as he stood up "Protecting my twin's honor and his good name and all that chivalrous crap"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. Matthew was trying to protect his twin's honor? So he did have a small bit of that hero complex in him as well, though not as obnoxiously evident as his brother's. Maybe it ran in the family. The Canadian offered to make coffee for everyone and took their requests, Francis' as a macchiato, the Italians' as cappuccinos, Gilbert's with a shot of tequila, and Ludwig's, Antonio's and Alfred's as straight black. Matthew motioned for Arthur to help him, taking the opportunity to get the two of them alone in the kitchen. The Englishman obliged suspiciously.

"Everyone else knows, so I don't see any reason why you shouldn't" Matthew explained as he set the coffee maker on high "Or else it could get really really messy, having to explain all this without you knowing"

Arthur sat himself down at the kitchen table, too intrigued to say that he didn't care. He watched the blonde flit around the kitchen, taking down the ingredients he would need. He seemed to know exactly where everything was. Either he came to the trio's place often, or he had an incredible memory. Arthur wondered what such explaining would need to be done.

"I guess it was when we were children." Matthew began, still bustling around "Al was the kid who constantly walked around with his arm in a cast. It's a miracle he can still use his arm as he does now. He'd get it broken all the time, playing outside, fighting, while playing sports. He was always the brave one like that, you know? So it was some time in the summer when we were 8. We were playing baseball at the neighborhood park when this car pulled up. It wasn't all that weird, since it had been hanging around for a while and the people didn't seem bad. They'd talk to us sometimes. On the fifth or so day, the car came over again but the people in it were different. They came to talk to us and it kind of scared us, the way they were acting. I'm sure you can guess what happened next."

Matthew trailed off quietly as he sat down across from the Brit and waited for the coffee to brew. It was clear that he hadn't revisited the memory in a very long time. Arthur nodded slowly, prompting the boy to continue. Matthew blinked almost sleepily as the smell of coffee wafted around the kitchen but folded his hands together in front of him.

"Well" Matt said "You know how Al has such a hero complex with everything"

"Yes…I've noticed" Arthur replied in a wry voice with the barest hint of sarcasm.

"They came after me first, since Al was pretty big for a kid his age. And I guess it was instinctive for Al to come to my rescue. Only, in the process of doing that, he was the one that got taken. It was just so damned stupid of him. The entire situation was everything that they had taught us was NOT right in school. So I did what they always tell kids to do. Go find an adult to help. I went home and got my mother. This was just before they, she and my father, separated."

"And?" Arthur said, inwardly cursing himself for how childishly curious he sounded.

"They found him 3 days later" Matt said quietly. "He'd basically been sexually abused. And it was by mostly by men."

"Oh"

Arthur was at a loss for words. Alfred, if anything, was the farthest thing from a victim he'd ever imagined. The Brit had heard stories of women, young boys, children who had been kidnapped and gone through the same thing but he'd never really taken it seriously. It was serious, of course, but he'd never known or met anyone who'd had to face the situation. It was strange to know that someone he knew as a person had had it happen to them. The Brit fidgeted a little as he dwelled on the thought. He felt like he'd suddenly intruded into someone's personal life, one where he didn't belong. But it was impossible to unhear the story. Not when it completely dissipated the generally sunny disposition Alfred called his own.

"It's been 11 years since then" Matt concluded, rising as he heard the coffee maker bleep "And thank God we found him then. If it was later, I'm not sure what would've happened. Al's not one to really let it show, and time has helped him get over it. He, um, doesn't really mind being around people like that. He tries to see them as people, not what gender they prefer. Honestly, being around Antonio and Lovino has helped him a lot but he can't see two men loving each other that way or any other way. It….scares him."

"Why are you telling me this, Matthew?" Arthur questioned, still not rising from the table.

Matt smiled as he stirred in a generous amount of tequila into a mug that Arthur knew would be Gilbert's. The Canadian didn't seem all too disturbed by the fact that he was letting a stranger of a couple days know about his twin's past. Only saddened and fiercely protective.

"Like I said, I have a feeling that you'll be around with us for a long time" he spoke, shrugging "And Al's a brat but I can't have you thinking of him in that bad a way"

Arthur blinked and frowned. He still didn't like the amount of trust that was being put to him. It was just a little too much to bear, for comfort, that is. But nonetheless, he dismissed the discomfort, not wanting to be a trouble to Matthew, and stood up to help him. He took a tray into hand and followed the Canadian back into the living room, where they were met with much thanks. As Arthur passed Ludwig, Antonio and Alfred their coffee, a crease appeared between his eyebrows. It was hard to think of Alfred the same way he had before. In fact, what had he thought of the American as before? Nothing more than a bother, an acquaintance. And so he would continue to think of him as so. After he passed out all the drinks, he suddenly found himself without one. Matthew offered to go back for some more coffee, already having his own maple scented cupful but Arthur denied it. He'd never really liked coffee, hated it, in fact. It was too strong for his tastes, which was a bit contradictory considering how much alcohol he could drink. Well, it didn't really take that much to get him drunk; the problem being that he kept drinking even after. Which was a bit stupid, but whatever. Alfred was clearly shocked out of speaking when he heard that Arthur hated coffee. It was practically blasphemy to him. The Brit smirked as he watched the American sputter about the awesomeness of coffee as he wandered back into the kitchen. If Francis lived here, then there was sure to be a teapot. True enough, after a good amount of rummaging around, Arthur found a teakettle. He poured some water into it and let it sit on the stove for a while. In the meantime, he searched the cabinet drawers for some tea. He hoped it was some good tea, considering that he was very particular about it, but then again, if it was French, he would probably hate it anyway. He searched all of the drawers and lower cabinets until there was only one top cabinet left. If there was tea at all in the damned apartment, it was sure to be there. Unless Francis was crazy and decided to use it for cosmetic purposes. Arthur attempted to reach for it and found that he was too short. Curse his height. He wasn't even that short, just….not as tall as the occupants of the apartment, apparently. He scowled and moved to grab a chair to stand on. Just as he found a short stool that wasn't dangerously high as the chairs, he heard a quiet thunk on the counter top behind him. He turned to find that it was Alfred. Again.

_'Good God, how many times am I going to let this twat sneak up on me'_ Arthur thought, frowning as he set the stool down.

"Thank you" he said out loud, grabbing the canister of tea that Alfred had retrieved for him.

The American shrugged as Arthur inspected the label of the canister. It read: _Marriage Frere_, a tea company in France that even Arthur had to admit sold spectacular tea. And yes. Spectacular.

"They told me to tell you where the tea was, or at least that's what Francis said" Alfred replied, stretching his arms behind his head as a yawn forced its way out of him.

"I suppose they still remember my old habits" Arthur mused as he pulled out a mug.

"Old habits?" Alfred asked.

"Yes, old habits" Arthur replied off handedly "Tea's as much of a necessity to me as air is"

Alfred frowned. He'd never liked tea, hated it, in fact. He just didn't get it. It was like flavored water. Which sounded pretty gross, even as he thought about it. He voiced his opinions on the drink to Arthur who simply rolled his eyes in return.

"Coffee's the same, git" he retorted as the kettle whistled lightly.

"No it's not! It has way more substance than tea!" Alfred replied.

"It's still flavored water, you know." the Brit said, letting the tealeaves settle.

Alfred made a face but found that he couldn't really argue. He murmured a 'whatever' and walked back out into the living room, leaving a smirking Arthur chuckling. He was so childlike, even in the way he argued. The Englishman waited several minutes for the tea to steep, then grabbed the mug, testing it. He frowned immediately. He'd forgotten that it was nothing but the tea itself, and he always took his tea with sugar, no milk. He rooted around for some sugar, sure that he'd seen it somewhere, and stirred in a spoonful or two. After he was sure that his tea was somewhere close to perfection, he ambled back into the living room where he was met with a loud boom. Alfred, Antonio, Gilbert, and Lovino were playing some kind of battle type video game on Gilbert's prized X-Box. It was confusing to Arthur, as always, so he took a seat on the couch next to Ludwig.

The younger German had pulled out his reading glasses and was casually flipping through a book. What made Arthur smile though, was Feliciano snuggled comfortably into his side, his breathing slowing down into that of a young child in slumber. Ludwig didn't seem to mind; occasionally glancing down to make sure the Italian was still sleeping through all the noise. They made a peaceful picture, not like the crazy one Antonio and Lovino made. Arthur snorted to himself. They were total opposites, all four of them. Antonio must be a masochist to even put up with Lovino but love worked in strange ways. Not that Arthur would know, of course. The Brit took a deep sip. The tea was fruity and sweet, bitter notes poking out from where the sugar did not catch it. It was different from his preferred Earl Grey and occasional Ceylon but acceptable.

"What are you reading?" Arthur asked conversationally when he found that he was awkwardly staring off into space.

Ludwig looked up and was about to answer when Gilbert's loud voice shattered the air.

"It's probably some weird erotica stuff!" he snorted, not even trying to hide the smirk.

Ludwig flushed lightly and Gilbert cackled. The Prussian loved his big brother role, protectiveness, teasing, and all. In response, Ludwig held up his book to show Arthur one of Goethe's works. Arthur nodded; glad to know that someone else had the mind to read refined literature. The others definitely didn't. He looked down at his cup and drained the last of his tea, looking somewhat lonely as he blinked at the remaining dregs. He'd never done this before, sipping tea in a room with shouts of laughter, battle, and protest around him. He set the mug down on a side table and found Francis on the other side, talking in rapid French with Matthew. Arthur shuddered at the language and Francis' smirk widened, catching sight of the Brit from his peripheral vision.

"Isn't it about time your curfew starts?" the Frenchman asked, grinning, finding pleasure in reminding the crotchety Brit that he actually had one to begin with.

Arthur scowled but glanced down at his watch to find that, yes, curfew was about to hit. He rubbed his temples and took a few deep breaths. God, he hated the curfew so much. It made him feel like he was a teenager again. Only, though his teenage years had been a few of the best years of his life, they were also considerably the ones where he'd been the most rebellious. And that hadn't ended too well. He'd asked to extend the curfew later into the night since he explained where he would be going to Doctor Alaric but even then, it was early. The minute hand on his watch ticked closer to 10:00 as he stood up to grab his jacket.

"Any of you willing to drive me back?" he asked.

"That would be me" Francis prompted with a yawn "I'm the designated driver for tonight!"

"Oh joy" Arthur replied in a clipped tone.

Francis chuckled but he grabbed his car keys from the counter they were on and motioned towards the door.

"Shall we?" he asked formally, even opening the door for him.

"For the love of God, I'm not a bloody lady" Arthur muttered.

Shouts of goodbye were shot at him as he walked out the door. He smiled a little and said his own farewells to the group that was being left behind. The game had been momentarily paused for the event of someone leaving. Gilbert waved his beer bottle, which was most fitting, and Ludwig offered a nod, not wanting to move too much for fear of waking the still sleeping Feliciano. Lovino muttered something or other that was drowned out by Antonio's own farewell. Matthew smiled and waved cheerfully while Alfred shouted out a loud and obnoxious goodbye. Arthur walked out of the apartment to the sounds of the game being played again as the door shut behind him with a bleep. The two took the elevator down to the first floor and got into Francis' car. The ride back to the hospital was a pleasantly quiet one. There were the normal questions of 'how was your day', 'did you have fun' etc., that eventually trailed off into nothingness.

"What do you think about them? Lovino, Feliciano, the twins?" Francis asked at a red light.

"Well, what am I supposed to think about them?" Arthur asked with a question of his own "Lovino's….well, he's a bit prickly, if I must say so…."

"Oh please, _cher_, I don't want to hear that coming from you!" Francis chortled, laughing.

"Oh, shut up" the Brit said "As for the others, Feliciano's a good kid, though he's a little too ditzy, and Matthew, he's the only sane one, besides me. And Ludwig, I suppose. But Alfred. Oh God, how is Matthew even related to him?"

"What do you mean? They're very close, those two" Francis said, keeping his eyes on the road as he drove on.

"No, no, that's not what I meant. I mean, how can someone as sweet and quiet as Matthew even be related to someone as obnoxiously twat-like as Alfred?" Arthur asked, thinking to himself.

Francis laughed "Alfred's a good kid Arthur. He's the brightest of us all, honestly, and he can be serious when he wants to" the Frenchman assured "He's the exact opposite of you. That's probably why you don't get anything he does"

"Opposite, yes" Arthur grumbled.

The car turned into the driveway of the hospital and came to a halt before the front entrance. Arthur unbuckled himself from the shotgun seat and stepped out. As he shut the car door, Francis leaned across the seat so he could see Arthur through the open window.

"Think you can deal with us again?" he asked, trying to make the tone sound as if he really wasn't worried.

"If I can deal with you lot for a few days, I think I can for a good long time" Arthur replied.

"Alright then. See you later, _rosbif_ " Francis replied, getting hold of the wheel again.

"Yes, good night to you" Arthur said off handedly.

The blonde walked towards the automatic doors and Francis' sleek black car pulled out of the hospital loop. Arthur checked in at the counter. He greeted the several staff workers that wished him good night as he made his way to his room. It was almost strange, actually. He'd come to know many of the people who worked and staffed the hospital but was never considerably close to any of them. He shrugged and entered his room. It was still a blank white color, glowing a steady blue in the dull moonlight that shone through that single window mounted high up on his wall. Arthur smiled a little sadly as he shut the door behind him. It was a sad sad place to live in, but it was what he called home. And it was home nonetheless. Arthur walked over to the far side of the room to the adjoining door. It had been locked for a long time yet but when he tried the handle, he found that it was open. He poked his head inside to find a restroom with a dresser tucked into one corner. He opened the drawer to find all of his clothes neatly folded and stacked. The staff had been very precise, Arthur noted with a smile. He supposed his habitual want for organization had rubbed off over time. He also noted that a good bit of his clothes held the crispness that always trailed newly bought clothes. A gift from his parents, he knew instinctively. It was supposed to mean something and it almost did. It meant that he was completely forgotten, though he was sure he was no longer in their affections anymore. He was trouble and 25, for Christ's sake. No doubt they'd heard that he'd been somewhat released form his confinement but he knew they wouldn't be there to visit. Last he'd heard, they were in some nondescript quiet country, steadily spending the remainder of their retirement money. Arthur sighed quietly to himself before selecting a well-worn T-Shirt and a pair of sweatpants. The new clothes would not be touched for some time yet. Arthur shrugged off his jacket, pulled his shirt over his head and tugged the new one on. Then he washed up for the night, avoiding the mirror. He'd stopped looking in mirrors, reflective surfaces, long ago. He'd never liked the image that was projected back and eventually, it became habitual. At the though, Arthur snuck a hesitant glance at the glass. And he wasn't quite sure if he was expecting what he saw. There were the green eyes, translucent yet vibrant with untamed, raw color. The large eyebrows that seemed to mark all Kirkland men, a sloped nose, and perfectly sculpted cheekbones that tapered off into a slightly share yet rounded chin. He looked the same as he had, with sullen patches of purple shadow ghosting under his eyes. But then he took a better look and decided that he had changed after all. His features, once large and overwhelming as a child and not much better as a depressed adult, had filled out evenly, giving and air of maturity about him. He'd gained weight since his last remembrance of the fragile wraith he had been. There was more color to his cheeks and his eyes held a certain solidness of life.

_'At least it's for the better'_ the Brit thought absentmindedly as he dried off with a towel.

He wandered back into his original ward and allowed himself to collapse face down on the bed before rolling over. The ceiling, such a familiar ceiling, smiling down at him in all its blank off-whiteness. Arthur's thoughts spun back to the earlier events of the day.

_'To a photographer, all the world's his subject'_

The memory brought a slight smile to his lips. A child attempting to sound like an adult, his mother or father perhaps. But Alfred had looked so confident, so natural with that camera held in his hands.

_'I know he doesn't seem like much, but you've never seen him hold a camera'_

Now that he had, Arthur frowned a little. He was proven wrong, yes he was, but it wasn't that. Alfred didn't really seem like much, even now. A young college student, if anything. Yet there was that moment, at the park, when Arthur had realized that Alfred had as much a clue as to what he wanted from life as the Brit had. And what Matthew had trusted him with. No one had ever put that much trust in him in a long time. A very long time indeed. He squirmed around until he managed to find a comfortable spot on the bed. But he still felt a little off, like there was something bothering him and he couldn't quite place it. It was a lingering feeling that always managed to trace its way back to the current problems at hand. He'd always been like that, unable to let go of problems, but this was a stranger case. One that he wasn't familiar with.

_'Why, exactly, do I think so much about this'_ he wondered, bewildered. _'It's definitely not doing me any good'_

And with such thoughts, he rolled over and forced himself to sleep.

* * *

><p>Across town, on the second floor of a university dormitory, second door to the right, was Alfred. He lay in a similar position to Arthur, face up on his bed and staring at the ceiling. But his ceiling was different. It was a dull gray color and maybe there was a water leak. Alfred couldn't tell. It could have been a coffee stain for all he knew. His arms were tucked behind his head as his chest rose and fell in the steady rhythm of his concentration. Matthew had told him that he'd explained everything to Arthur. Alfred felt uncomfortable about that. It wasn't the first time Matthew had seen the need to tell certain people his story at the younger twin, terrible at keeping secrets from his brother, always always <em>always<em> told him. Alfred trusted Matthew more than anyone else in the world. But when the younger, gentler twin had informed him that Arthur, the finicky old Brit that they'd known for a week, now knew about Alfred's certain condition and what had happened, Alfred caved in a little.

It felt…well, weird.

He didn't really know why, since he was totally fine with the others knowing and all. But Arthur wasn't like the others. He wasn't as cheerful or as mischievous or as really loose as the others. While they acted almost younger than their ages, he acted a good bit older. And that scowl that he always wore, closed in on himself. The scar Alfred had noticed across his wrist and then the other across his throat, told him much more than the Brit ever would and the look in his eyes, not sad, per se, but lonely. Deep and lonely. The one moment that did him any justice though, was that at the park. When Alfred had caught sight of the familiar Brit, he just kind of stopped and stood there, camera in hand. He'd looked quite content with himself, sitting all alone on a park bench and staring out into a green glass lake. Alfred couldn't resist snapping a few pictures. The blonde sighed as his fingers twitched involuntarily towards the camera that sat at his bedside table. He willed himself not to grab it and look for the certain pictures. It was only after he'd announced his presence that the Brit that become a closed pair of doors again. Like one of those puzzles he and Matt loved to do when they were just kids. But what was Arthur like? Did he hate him now, more than he seemed to, since he'd learn that Alfred was a homophobe, that he was tainted? Was he disgusted or did he not care? Did he understand? The American rolled over on his bed and found his face pushed into a soft downy pillow.

"Why do I care so much?" he asked to no one in particular, voice muffled.

No one responded. So Alfred threw his clock at the wall.

* * *

><p>At the trio's apartment, the gaming continued, ranging over a large variety of games. Lovino peered through intelligent eyes as he watched the doorway through with Arthur had left. He absentmindedly rubbed at the lengthy scars across his wrists. Memories, or, rather, reminders from his cutting days. But those days were behind him. Only, he wondered if such days were behind the Brit as well. He couldn't have been the only one that saw the barest hint of the scar across Arthur's throat. It was quite well hidden, under the shadow his chin made but it was quite visible. The only person who might not have noticed it would've been Feli, if he wasn't feeling up to being observant in his own ditzy way. But the Italian could see why no one had brought it up. It would have been too delicate a subject, one that would clash horribly with the group's normally out-of-beat yet happy air. And what Arthur decided to keep to himself, he would keep to himself. After all, they all had their own dirty little secrets. Actually, cross that. They knew most of each other's dirty little secrets but it was the deep dark ones that they left untouched. There. That fit better. Pleased with his metaphorical conclusion, he stretched lazily. Arthur was a strange person.<p>

But probably not stranger than the rest of them.

"You see it, don't you" he asked, leaning into Antonio's ear and lowering his voice so that no one would hear.

"We all do, _querido_" Antonio replied.

"But you all act like you don't" Lovino said.

Antonio was silent for a moment, then he wrapped his arms around his Italian and buried his face in Lovino's neck. Lovino instinctively began to protest but a muffled murmur from the Spaniard stopped him. Lovino knew when Antonio was being serious and his normally fiery amber eyes softened as he ran a hand through Antonio's deep brown hair.

"Arthur knows we know. He's not stupid. But he didn't always use to be like that, you know" Antonio said, running a hand across the slashed scars on Lovino's wrists.

"No one who has those scars ever is" Lovino replied.

"Yes. It's sad when someone you know becomes someone you knew"

"Agreed, bastard"

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I loved writing Francis in this one. Really, you can't have USUK with out France!

**EXTRA:** So, I want to include at least one crack couple in this fic. Ideas?

PLLEASE REVIEW. THEY ARE MY INSPIRATION AND MY PLOT BUNNIES ARE DYING.


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